The cheers were thunderous as he passed down the avenue. Numerous brass bands were interspersed with the floats to add their crashing symphony to the occasion.
Barbara leaned forward with eyes alight to see the second float. It was impossible to think of anything else.
The title float illustrated the theme of the pageant. This year Rex has chosen “The Conquest of the Air” as the theme to be presented by the various floats.
The earth glittering and spinning amongst clouds and gem-like flowers. A superb float which promises wonders to come.
The next was the flying horse of India. The Oriental splendor of the East is gloriously portrayed on the float as the prince exhibits his wonderful horse to the multitudes.
The Flight of Dædalus and Icarus: father and son flying with wings of feathers.
A Persian legend: Hausa, the Fire Bird. A more beautiful conception could not have been created.
Barbara was breathless as the exquisite floats passed down the avenue. Thousands of dollars and the skill and ingenuity of many men are represented in the Rex Pageant each year. No human can view the magnificent array without carrying away some small feeling that laughter and merriment are good.
Phaeton and the Sun Horses followed swiftly. Pegasus: The Magic Carpet of Bagdad: the Dragon Prince: Perseus and the Gorgon’s Head: The Flying Stooclass="underline" The Flight of the Viking’s Souclass="underline" The Flight of Sinbad; and of Beelzebub.
One could grasp only the salient points of each float before the next appeared to dim the splendor of the preceding. The crowds were hoarse with excessive cheering. Each declared to his neighbor that this year’s pageant far surpassed anything seen before.
Barbara had forgotten Sonia. Robert did not matter. Her soul was lifted above mundane considerations by the glittering spectacle in the avenue below. Each float was a vision of such loveliness that she could only gasp as they came on and on.
The Flight of the Observation Balloons brought the first modern note of the parade. A beautiful tableau of varicolored balloons wafted in the air and surrounded by golden-tinted clouds. A group of soldiers in every glittering uniform of the past and present.
The Witch’s Flight on Halloween followed the balloons. Perhaps the most fantastic and weird of all the floats.
The Nuptial Flight of the Bee was in beautiful contrast with the foregoing. Here the designer had given full and free hand to his imagination in depicting the tragic wedding journey of the Queen Bee and her mate.
A tear streamed down Barbara’s cheek as she turned from the tableau of the Flight from which only one will return. It seemed to her, somehow, symbolic of the tragedy she was finding in discovering passion.
The Flight of Sound Through Air was the next float. Radio and its marvelous development.
The Flight of Santa Claus was the fantasy which made up the next float to the last.
The end of the gorgeous procession was a float which drew a new burst of thunderous applause from the wearied throats of the spectators. The cheers swelled in volume until the very buildings seemed to vibrate with the sound.
A superb concept of the thrilling adventure which stirred the world. Lindbergh! The Flight of The Lone Eagle. A heroic tableau showing the tiny plane poised in mid-ocean while the airman stands in the conflicting elements and watches.
Barbara sank back and her hand went to her bosom as the procession was ended.
“We can stay here and see it go back,” Ethel offered. “They’ll go down St. Charles to Canal and swing around back this way, if you want to wait.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Barbara breathed. “I don’t know whether I want to see it again. I think I’d rather hold the memory I have. Seeing it again might take away some of the beauty by giving me too many details. I... I feel as though I want to hide away and just remember it forever.” She grasped at this memory as a straw to keep her mind from the thing which she had heard before the parade.
Ethel gazed at her understandingly. Her heart ached for her. She knew how Barbara had regarded her love for Robert. It had been something sublime. A thing apart from material considerations.
Now that she had discovered Robert had feet of clay?
What now?
Ethel turned her gaze to the throng below and uttered a little cry. “There’s Frank!” she, exclaimed.
“Oh, Frank! Yoo-hoo!” She leaned over the balcony.
“Where is he?” Barbara was by her side eagerly. Her animation was forced, but her voice rang out eagerly, “I see him. Frank!”
Her voice cut through the shouting and babble about him to Frank’s ears. He looked upward smilingly and saw them on the balcony above.
“Hello,” he called gayly. “You going to wait for Rex to come back?”
Barbara knew, suddenly, what she was going to do. It was as though a voice spoke to her and made her course clear. There was no doubting. No hesitation. There would be no regrets.
“Not if you can get me out of this bedlam,” she called to Frank.
“Nothing easier,” he laughed back. “My car’s parked a few blocks away... out of the jam. Come on down.” He stepped directly beneath the balcony and held out his arms laughingly.
“All right,” Barbara said composedly. She turned to Ethel. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not. Frank is exactly what you need. Don’t forget you’re going to the dance at Brierly to-night. That is...” Ethel hesitated in momentary confusion. She remembered that Sonia had said she was going with Robert. She held her breath as she waited to see Barbara’s reaction.
“Of course I’m going,” Barbara told her impatiently. “And I’ll get Frank to bring me home in time for dinner.”
“Come on,” Frank called impatiently. “I’ll catch you.”
Without hesitation Barbara kissed Ethel swiftly and swung her body over the rail. Ethel gasped and clutched at her hand, but Barbara swung clear. She hung there momentarily, her feet some two yards above the sidewalk, and she remembered that she wore nothing whatever beneath the wide skirt.
Her cheeks flamed scarlet as she looked down into Frank’s dancing eyes, and a little burst of laughing applause came from those who stood grouped about him.
Then she let go her grip on the railing and dropped, plummet-like, into his arms.
The skirt flared up above her head as she dropped, and Frank’s arms encircled her nude loins. He held her thus as the costume wafted down about her limbs.
Her arms went around his neck and she kissed him. She hoped Sonia was watching... and she hoped Ethel would tell Sonia who she was... and she wished Robert might see her thus.
Frank’s hands disengaged themselves reluctantly from behind her back, and came away with a lingering caress which made her more wholly his.
“Take me home with you,” she said desperately. “I won’t drink anything this time.” Her eyes promised him while her lips smiled.
“Come on,” he muttered gruffly. “Follow me while I give an imitation of a snow plow as I break a path for you.”
Chapter Sixteen
Ethel turned to Sonia as Barbara dropped from the rail into Frank’s arms.
“Hello, Ethel,” Sonia greeted her. “Have you been sitting behind me all the time?”
“Yes. Sitting behind you and listening,” Ethel said pointedly.
“My, my,” Sonia mocked. “I do hope you weren’t shocked. Who is the little maenad who flings herself into the gallant arms of Frank Dupree?” she asked as Frank and Barbara moved away together.
“Her name is Barbara,” Ethel said slowly.
“Barbara?” Sonia wrinkled her brows attractively. “Should that mean anything to me?”